


I Must Have Done Something Good

by writical



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, M/M, Slow Build, Sound of Music AU, alpha!Derek, temp!Stiles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-06
Updated: 2013-12-06
Packaged: 2018-01-03 14:58:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1071802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writical/pseuds/writical
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A nonmusical Sound of Music AU featuring a temp that can't keep a position and an Alpha that can't keep a nanny. Very much a WIP.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Must Have Done Something Good

**Author's Note:**

> Loosely based on the 1965 film, which is loosely based on the Von Trap family. Dear God I hope none of their descendants have the misfortune of finding this.

Stiles was late.  Again.

 It’s not like he meant to sleep through his alarm. He had planned on going to bed at a reasonable hour, but he finally started Breaking Bad last night after hearing about it endlessly from Scott. Now, running up the stairs with a crick in his neck, a rumpled shirt, and unwashed hair, he knows he shouldn’t have trusted his impulse control when faced with a new show and endless streaming on Netflix.

He reaches the top of the landing and has to stop to catch his breath, clutching his messenger bag and panting. After a few more minutes than he’d like to admit he finally straightens up, enters the floor lobby, and swipes his ID card through the reader. Instead of the green light and happy noise that usually accompanies the action, the reader stays silent and red. No matter how many times Stiles tries cursing, pleading, and glaring the little dumb light doesn’t change.

“This is just not my fucking day,” he mutters, grabbing his hair in frustration. After a final swipe, Stiles gives the smug little light the darkest look he can muster before pressing the intercom above for help.

“Finstock and Associates this is Matt, do you have an appointment?”

“Heeeey Matty, it’s me. Uh weird thing, my card's not working this morning.” Stiles laughs uncomfortably, “Do you think you could let me in? And you know we can keep this whole _late thing_ between us.”

“My name is Matt,Stilinski.  Not Matty, not Mattski , not Matterson, **Matt**.”

Stiles waves his hand around. “Right yeah of course. Just uh, about that door, Matthew. Opening anytime soon?” Stiles hears curses over the intercom that cut off when the reader chirps and turns green, admitting Stiles into the office.

Stiles drums on the receptionist desk as he walks by. “Thanks Matt-aroni,” he says, walking backwards to point at Matt in an appreciative manner simultaneously ignoring the scathing look he gets in return.

Stiles works his way through the maze of cubicles to the one he’s gotten acquainted with over the past two weeks, stopping in his tracks when he sees someone that is not him in front of the computer. “Hey buddy, I know there’s not usually anyone at this one, but I’ve sort of set of shop here and- _Danny_?” he blurts, recognizing the person in the chair. “What are you doing here man? Do they need two people for the job or something?” Working with Danny could be fun. He’s shot Stiles down at every attempt to ask him out, but looking at that face all day would definitely not be a hardship.

Danny sighs and reaches up to smooth his tie before turning to face Stiles fully. “The job description is still the same, Stiles: One person for a month’s work of data entry and record keeping. _I’m_ that one person.” Stiles’ mouth falls open in surprise and his eyebrows furrow in confusion. “You’re replacing me?” he asks, taking half a step back trying not to feel hurt.

 “Not replacing Bilinski, _replaced,_ ” barks a voice behind him, causing Stiles to wrench his already sore neck in response. There at the opening of the cubicle stood Bobby Finstock, owner and CEO of Finstock and Associates (Stiles wasn’t exactly sure what it was the business did. It seemed they were both financial advisers and bill collectors, with a side of online sports gear sales. Whatever it was, he was sure that did not require the stupid security precautions they had in place.). “This is the third time you’ve been late, _third_. You’ve been here for two goddamn weeks!” Stiles is positive their current proximity didn’t require him to be that loud; he’s pretty certain the guy had eggs for breakfast. “I called Deaton to demand my money back, but he sent over this strapping young lad in your place,” Finstock says, moving to clap Danny on the shoulder grinning. “And guess what Bilinski? Not only was he on time, he also GOT THE WORK DONE.”

Stiles grimaces and wipes the spittle off his face. “So I’m guessing that’s why my key card didn’t work this morning.”

“Ding ding ding! Give the boy a hand,” Finstock says, clapping sarcastically. He brings his hands down. “Now get the hell out of my office building.”

Stiles stands there gapping after the man’s back as he walked away. The quiet humming of _Another One Bites the Dust_ reaches Stiles’ ears and he turns to glare at Danny before grabbing his batman bobble head off the desk. “You don’t deserve Batman,” Stiles hisses as he backs away. He’s not really mad at Danny, and he knows this, it just sucks to be fired from yet another temp position. What does it say about him that he can’t even keep a job that is _literally_ temporary? Stiles muses this on the bus as he heads back to Beacon Hills Temp Agency. He’s a little pissed off that he didn’t even get a heads up that he’d been fired before showing up to see Danny in his place.

Stiles enters the temp agency, the bell above the door ringing on his way in. He makes his way back to Deaton’s office, expecting the man to be waiting to have _a conversation_. Yeah, a conversation. Never a lecture, or a scolding, but a _conversation_ through which Deaton is able to make Stiles wish that he’d just yell at him instead. He doesn’t know how to better himself if the guy never outright tells him ok? It’s frustrating as hell.

He passes by the break room where the radio is playing that obnoxious morning show called _Greenberg’s Get Up!_ where the dude does the whole show in some western theme when everyone knows he’s never left Beacon Hills in his life (For some unexplainable reason, it was always playing at Finstock’s offices). Greenberg’s loud cackling must have covered the noises of his entry because the conversation coming from Deaton’s office is one that he is clearly not supposed to hear.

“He got fired again?” he can hear Scott ask. Stiles can picture the pained sympathetic look on his best friend’s face.

“I’m not surprised; the guy’s a fucking menace.” Of course out of all the people he works with, Jackson is one of the first to find that out. He has some tally count of how many jobs Stiles has gotten fired from in his locker or something. He likes to mention it whenever Stiles gets a placement he wanted. He knows there’s some balance to the universe at least, because the one and only time Jackson was caught trying to hold a company bet on how long Stiles’ current employment would last not only did he get taken off the good temping list for a month, but Stiles didn’t get fired. He tries to keep that memory in the forefront of his mind as he hears Jackson list all his less than favorable qualities.

“Well, lucky for Stiles I am the owner of this business, not you, Mr. Whittemore,” Deaton interrupts. “I admit he is one of the more difficult employees I’ve had to place, but he has his good qualities.”

“Like what?” Jackson scoffs, “The ability to raise your blood pressure?”

“That’s not fair! Stiles is a good addition to the business!” Scott intercedes.

“Yeah, McCall? How?” Stiles can practically see the smug smile on Jackson’s face. He’d like to have the opportunity to smack it right off of him.

 “He’s funny! Everyone says so. He makes everybody laugh.”

“Well when someone calls for a comedian, I’m sure Deaton will put him right on that.”

“That’s enough boys,” Deaton interrupts the quickly raising voices of Scott and Jackson. “Whether or not you appreciate him, the question seems to be: _Where do you place somebody like Stilinski?”_ He pauses. “Soon after the termination of Mr. Stilinski’s contract this morning, I got a call about a new opportunity I think would fit him rather well. Like him, it’s not exactly conventional.”

Well that certainly gets Stiles’ attention.

“But I think it’d be best if I told him myself. Would you please come in Mr. Stilinski? I think you’ve done your share of eavesdropping for one day.”

Banging his head on the wall, Stiles sighs and makes his way into the room. “Heeey boss,” he says, resolutely ignoring the presence of Jackson against the wall and Scott seated in front of Deaton’s desk. “Thanks for the heads up on being taken off the Finstock position. It would have been embarrassing to show up only to find out that I no longer work there.” So he’s sort of bitter about it, sue him.

“I deemed it appropriate for you to find out on your own,” Deaton says, giving him a bemused smile. “After all, how else would you learn, if not from your experiences?”

Stiles could list a million ways you could learn _not_ from experiences. Literally a million. A book, a class, the internet, assembly instructions printed halfway in Chinese. He keeps all this to himself though, instead choosing to collapse into the vacant chair next to Scott trying to keep a scowl in check.

“Would you gentlemen excuse us?” Deaton asks, looking up at the other men in the room. Jackson snorts and Scott pats Stiles’ shoulder on the way out, shutting the door behind them.

“Stiles,” Deaton begins, and Stiles slumps back until his head hits the back of the chair.

“I really tried this time, I did,” Stiles says, addressing a water stained ceiling tile. “It’s just that, I had some free time last night and Netflix was calling.”

“Stiles.” Deaton says again.

“It’s not like that time when I worked for that Harris dick. The Finstock place was pretty cool; the receptionist totally loved me too.”

“ _Stiles._ ”

“I mean I know my track records not the best: tardiness, dress code violations, lack of focus, noncompliance,” Stiles gestures for each offence, “but I really do appreciate you continuously giving me a chance. It’s not easy finding work with no college degree and medical bills to pay.”

“Stiles, I know you don’t want to work here the rest of your life.” Stiles looks up at that. Most of the jobs require average computer skills and a pretty good wpm; rarely are there instances of unskilled labor. He, like the majority of the people working at the temp agency, is only here to try and find a foot in the door at places of better, more permanent employment. “Unfortunately, until then you do work for me, and you seem to have gotten yourself a reputation at some of the businesses we deal with regularly. Of course we have recently expanded our area of businesses outside of Beacon Hills, but-”

“You don’t want me to be the person that makes the first impression, I get it,” Stiles says, sitting up.

“It’s not that you’re an undesirable worker; you just require the right type of work environment,” Deaton says kindly. “As you likely overheard from the hallway, I think I have a good opportunity for you, but it deviates from our usual placements.” He eyes Stiles. “It’s not an office setting like you’ve become used to, the job itself requires more physical interaction than most, and the hours are rather different from expected.”

Stiles eyes grow wide. “What, you mean like a prostitute?”

Deaton outright laughs, which shocks Stiles in all honesty. “No nothing like that: there’s an Alpha in need of a live-in nanny for his four children the next six months.”

Stiles sputters, “I’m sorry, _what?_   That is not happening. I am in no way fit to be a nanny. Kids are always dealing with bodily fluids and eventually some kid vomits and then I vomit because – ohgod.” Stiles starts gagging, “I’m a sympathetic vomiter, and uh-” he swallows and clamps his eyes shut, trying not to think about vomit in any way shape or form. “No, yeah, no that’s not going to work. Nu-uh. Negative.” Stiles makes a frown of displeasure and blinking slowly, shakes his head, “I respectfully decline the offer.”

“Unfortunately for you Mr. Stilinski, I’m not giving you much of a choice, respectfully or not. This is the only placement I can offer you, and I’m convinced you would benefit from some time away from the corporate atmosphere.”

Stiles freezes his shaking leg. “So you’re saying if I don’t take this job I’m fired?”

“I think it’s in the best interest of everyone that you take this job. If you can nanny for kids with a reputation like theirs, it’s highly likely you’d find yourself much more agreeable in the workplace. Think of it as a practice in patience, among other skills.”

Stiles leans forward, pointing. “So you’re saying I spend six months with four kids that even an Alpha can’t handle and I’ll come back the perfect employee? That is the laziest Mr. Miyagi shit I’ve ever heard.”

Deaton smiles and folds his hands in front of his face. “So should I inform the Alpha to expect a new nanny by the end of the week?”

Stiles clenches his jaw looking away, “Goddammit. Alright, I’ll do it.”


End file.
